


Here Comes The Sun

by captain_murica



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, It's another AU lads, figure that out, to get over my writer's block from my other fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-02-28 11:52:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13270893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captain_murica/pseuds/captain_murica
Summary: The Mulders have a notorious reputation around town, and not only because of their daughter's suspicious disappearance. Their son, Fox, is what the locals call an out and out weirdo. Obsessed with the concept of extraterrestrial life and dangerously fixated on conspiracy theories within the government his own father works for, he is a recluse, an outcast in society.The Scullys have never met such a family in their life. Tight-knit, hard-working and protective to no end, they fit right in with the rest of the street. When they move into their new house in the suburbs, Dana isn't sure what to expect. Much unlike Fox, she appears to resemble a paragon of the perfect child: intelligent, kind and devastatingly beautiful.But everybody has their secrets, and when the two worlds collide a wonderful sort of partnership begins to form. How long can Dana hide from her family? And will Fox ever find what he so desperately searches for?





	1. Chapter 1

In an ideal world, Fox Mulder would have been rewriting his European socialism paper like the promising, diligent student he was. As a matter of fact, if he lived in an ideal world he wouldn’t even be retaking the stupid essay. But, unfortunately for him, real life turned out to be… Well, kind of a mess.

Hence why the paper had been left amid the rest of his unfinished reassignments and he was sprawled out on his bed in only a pair of boxer shorts, fighting against the oppressive heat of the dying September summer to fall asleep. He laid on his back, limbs sprawled carelessly across the mattress, his mouth gaping open wide and emitting low snores occasionally. Yet when an overwhelming surge of heat washed over him and he found himself doused in another sheen of sweat he would toss, turn and roll over to no end, as though he was never truly asleep in the first place.

The sound of the moving van crunching along the gravel of next door’s driveway made his ears prick a little, but it wasn’t enough to raise him from his half-slumber. Not physically, at least. Somewhere in the depths of his half-conscious state of mind he vaguely remembered that his new neighbours were moving in that day. A tiny fragment of his stream of consciousness wondered what they looked like – was it a family unit? A couple?

It was at that point he decided the thought was too exhausting and resolved to think about it later. His face relaxed again, and he felt his body grow heavy. It was like he was sinking into his bed, beyond the sheets, beyond the mattress, down, down, down into a warm abyss…

“Missy, stop it!”

His eyelids twitched. Once again he had been dragged away from sleep (or the closest he could get, at least) by the new neighbours. But now he knew they had a daughter. _Two_ daughters, if it was Missy giggling along to what the first girl had said. The urge to roll out of bed and shut the window nagged at him like a fly hovering around his ear, but he ignored it. His arms were too heavy, his legs weighed down to the bed. It was simply not worth the effort.

That being said, no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t go back to sleep. Instead he focused on the nasally quality of the first daughter’s voice – it was more of an undertone than anything, nothing unpleasant. In fact, her voice was light and perhaps even _kind,_ if that was possible. It was a voice of innocence. Perhaps if he had been fully awake he might have smiled at the sound, but he really wasn’t. With one sluggish movement he wiped the drool from his mouth and dropped his arm back to its original place.

Footsteps stomped on the gravel next door. The sound of a car door slamming shut made Mulder’s eye twitch. From somewhere in his new neighbours’ garden the sound of obnoxious laughing reached his ears.

“Mom! Bill’s got my Walkman again!”

“You’re such a little _snitch,_ Charlie.” Mulder presumed this was the boy – if you could call him a boy – who had been laughing. His voice was deep and harsh, a voice accustomed to shouting. Vaguely, Mulder recalled associating it with a spoilt brat. He seemed like the kind of kid who got everything he wanted until his siblings came along.

“Pack it in, you two.” And there was the mother, surely. What had been the start of an argument came to a halt and the two boys mumbled insincere apologies under their breaths. “Now come on, we’ve got to get everything inside. You can’t let your sisters do all the work, it’s unfair.” With that, the boys stopped quarrelling for good and seemed to do as they were told; Mulder didn’t hear another word from them after that. “Honey, could you take this box in for me please.”

“My pleasure.” And there was the dad. It really was the wholesome family unit. They’d fit in with the rest of the street – the smug housewives, the stupid breadwinning men of the house, the silly giggling high-school girls and thuggish sons. Yeah, they would fit right in around here. It was a community of fakers and liars, people too afraid to be themselves, to scared to reveal the tiniest shred of individuality. Conformity was a tough bitch to fight, but the whole damn road was obsessed with whose garden looked best and whose children were the loveliest and how often the grass was mowed. It was a pile of shit, in Mulder’s humble opinion. None of them cared about the important stuff.

A comma of sweat dribbled down his neck. Restless, he kicked his comforter away and sat up on the bed, grimacing as his body unstuck from the sheets. The cool relief he received from his chilled bedroom walls wasn’t enough to prevent a faint outline of his body on the bed; he curled his lip and shook his head as he stared down at it. After a couple of seconds which seemed to stretch on for years he stumbled to his feet and grabbed an old t-shirt from the pile of dirty washing in the corner. He hadn’t worn it in ages, and there was a ketchup stain down the front, but that wasn’t important. After all, he wasn’t going anywhere, and both his parents were at work. Pants were unnecessary; his legs were already sticky and damp without extra layers being added on top. When he ran a hand through his hair it all stuck up where he had left it. He grunted, his face contorted into a disgusted scowl, and rubbed his hands against the soft, lint-covered fabric of his shirt.

“I really need a shower,” he muttered to himself, rubbing his eyes. It wasn’t unusual for Mulder to speak to himself – it’s not like he had anybody else to talk to.

Despite making this promise to get up and wash, he blundered over to his desk and flopped down into his chair. The cold surface made him shiver. European socialism had been completely forgotten, naturally. But, against his better judgement, he decided to see what else he could discover about his new neighbours. Nosy? Yes. Pointless? Incredibly. People do stupid things when they’re bored, as he was all too aware. Mulder tilted his head to look up at the ceiling; a faint smile crossed his lips as he looked at all the indents and ugly gray smudges on the surface. Pencil javelin was a personal favorite of his – it was a good boredom-buster for about five minutes or so. His parents wouldn’t let him have a dart-board, so he had to make do; he had a sneaking suspicion that they’d banned them because they thought he would put pictures of them on it.

He peered out the window. If any members of the new family had looked up they might have laughed at him – his stuck-up hair and animated profile gave him the comic look of a cartoon character. They didn’t, however, giving him a perfect vantage point.

The mom of the house wasn’t quite what Mulder expected. She was short, with brown feathery hair and a warm smiling face. His eyebrows twitched upward as he watched her pick up a box labelled ‘CHINA’ in black marker pen and walk indoors. Truth be told, he hadn’t expected her to look so… Friendly? Welcoming? He couldn’t place his finger on the right word. But she seemed different somehow – at least, in comparison to the other housewives of the street. There was something homely about her. She was like a _real_ mother - almost like her children were more than just trophies.

Even if the rest of the new family on the block fitted the mold of the neighbourhood, at least the mom wasn’t so bad. That was better than nothing.

With little else to do Fox got to his feet and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. He mulled over the new family as he headed for the shower; though he didn’t want to get his hopes up, he entertained the idea that perhaps they wouldn’t be so bad after all.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Are you sure you want _me_ to go, Mom?” Dana picked at the remaining vegetables on her plate under the watchful eyes of both parents. She didn’t look up as she added, “I mean, if Melissa’s doing the dishes tonight and Bill’s dropping into the house on the right, why can’t Charlie stop by the house on the left? He isn’t doing anything.”

Charlie opened his mouth in protestation, revealing an unappealing blend of chicken and veggies. Melissa and Dana made similar noises of disgust; their mom swatted at him with a napkin.

“Well, Starbuck, what would you be doing?” Her dad’s voice was light and teasing. His eyes twinkled as he smiled at her – it was a knowing smile, one that gave her the sinking suspicion that she had already lost the argument.

“Uhhh…” By the time she had thought of an excuse she knew that her parents weren’t going to pay it any mind. “Well, I’ve still got to unpack some of my things, so, um…”

“Honey, you really don’t have to go if you want to,” her mom said. Dana could already hear the build-up to the _‘but’_ in Maggie’s voice and felt herself internally deflating. “But Charlie’s room needs a lot more work than yours. In fact, when I walked past your bedroom it looked fine, sweetheart. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Her parents didn’t need to say ‘that’s final’. The subtext was already there. Charlie grinned smugly from across the dinner table and winked at her in the irritating manner that siblings do when they get their own way. She kicked him under the table and smiled as a grunt escaped his lips. He didn’t snitch, though – he rarely ever snitched on her.

“I’ll head over there now.” Her chair scraped against the floor as she got to her feet. She gathered her plate, and then Bill’s after he shoved his over to her. “Thank you for the dinner, mom. It was delicious.”

She dumped the plates and cutlery into the sink and ran up to her room. It wasn’t particularly impressive – Melissa had called dibs on the biggest, of course - but Dana had narrowly escaped being assigned the box room. Still, between the powder-blue walls to the gray carpet, it wasn’t very inviting or grown-up. Her parents had promised her that it would be redecorated, but that would take months. _Not the kind of room a seventeen-year-old girl should have,_ she thought as she glanced around. Still, she would get used to it. She always did.

Dana knelt down and started to rummage through a box labelled ‘CLOTHES’ at the end of her bed. As her parents frequently told her, first impressions were everything, and she was already at a disadvantage in that respect. She currently donned her oldest pair of jeans, faded and patched at the knees, and a ratty yellow t-shirt with a peeling picture of Yogi Bear on it. She couldn’t remember how long she’d had the shirt, but she was pretty young when her Aunt Jean bought it for her. It was one of those things that she just couldn’t bring herself to throw away, no matter how hard she tried.

After she had shrugged off her moving-in clothes and replaced them with a plain t-shirt and cropped jeans, Dana quickly worked on combing through her hair with her fingers. The heat had frizzed her hair; she didn’t trust herself to use a brush in case it turned it into an embarrassing puff of red. That was a sure fire way to make the neighbors stay far away from her family.

“I won’t be long,” she called down the hall as she tugged her shoes on.

“Alright, sweetie. Have fun!”

“I won’t,” Dana said under her breath as she closed the front door behind her. Naturally, no one heard what she said, but the act of saying such a thing made her heart thump in her chest.

She took her time walking down the path from her house to the street, thinking of what she was supposed to say. _First impressions count, first impressions count, first impressions count…_ But why did it matter? All their old neighbors had been the same: friendly, nosy, just a little patronizing – especially to Dana and Charlie. And being nice and kissing up to people never amounted to anything, because her family always moved away before they could get invited to the street barbecues and garden parties. None of that would change, even now. It was your average idyllic suburban street, full of snobs and gossips.

Still, it was a _pretty_ street. The sunset cast a silhouette of houses on her eyes whilst a blend of pink and orange painted the sky. It was beautiful. There was a chirping of crickets in the air, accompanied by the low hum of television in houses. The sound escaped from open windows that were supposed to clear the heat from the homes and failed. It was still warm, but a gentle breeze would pass occasionally and blow Dana’s heat-frazzled hair away from her face. There was an element of tranquillity about it that seeped into the image of the sunset beyond the houses. For the first time since arriving at the house, she smiled.

As she approached the house on the left, Dana was sure she could hear music. In fact, she was certain she could. It was coming from the house. _That’s great,_ Dana thought. She smirked. _If they’re listening to music they might not hear me knock the door, and if they don’t hear me they won’t answer, and if they don’t answer I won’t have to talk to them!_

She walked up the steps to the door and reached up for the knocker. The song from inside was familiar; she recognized it as ‘Come and Get Your Love’, but she could not remember for the life of her who had sung it. It was one of her mom’s favorites – she associated it with the home they lived in when she was only eight years old. Her, Missy and her mother used to dance around the living room as they did the chores to that song. She wondered if her mom still had the record packed away somewhere, and if she’d brought it with her.

_Stop holding off. You’ve got to knock the door eventually._

With a deep breath and one swift movement, she rapped the knocker and waited for a response… Or even better, no response at all. While she stood there she fussed with her hair and attempted to tame down the frizz; it wasn’t as naturally curly as her sister’s, but it was wavy, and when the heat got to it, it went wild.

The door opened. Dana’s eyes widened just the slightest and she struggled to keep her jaw from hitting the floor.

_“Oh.”_

In front of her stood a tall, almost gangly boy whose face reflected the same shock and embarrassment she felt and tried so hard to cover up. She kept her eyes fixed on his face – a poor attempt to ignore his naked torso and the towel which hung loose around his hips. It dipped dangerously low. She blinked, and with an unconscious effort tilted her head upwards so she couldn’t look down.

He had a funny sort of face: serious watchful eyes, a large nose, and a very full, very pink bottom lip that looked as though it was constantly fixed into a gentle pout. He looked… Soft.

She couldn’t believe she had just thought that.

“Uhm, I’m sorry.” The words tumbled out of his mouth, rushed and unsteady. He hid behind the door and covered himself up, looking at anything but her face. If the whole situation hadn’t been so weird, the way his eyes darted about would have probably been funny. Dana stood at the doorstep still, her hands wringing together behind her back, dumbstruck. She’d never seen a boy without a shirt on before, apart from her brothers – who _definitely_ did not count. This was a boy – a _real boy_ – a complete stranger, standing in front of her. Shirtless. But he was also incredibly cute, in a ‘tall, dark and handsome nerd’ kind of way. “I, uh… Though you were my mom.”

_What? Ew!_

Before she could speak he had shut the door in her face. Practically slammed it, in fact.

Dana turned on her heel and walked back to her house as briskly as she possibly could without making it obvious she was running away. Running away from perhaps the most strange and embarrassing incident of her entire life. She covered her face with her hands and groaned quietly, feeling heat creeping up her neck and flushing her cheeks pink.

_God damn it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're reading this, I hope you're enjoying the story so far. It's just a little something that I'm writing to clear my writers' block and get back into writing Mulder/Scully, even though in this fic they're pretty different to how they are in The Phoenix.  
> Speaking of, if you've read this and want to know how my other fic is going, it's still on hiatus but I am definitely going to be continuing it. It won't be immediate - I might continue after I've finished this, or while still writing this, or I might not update either of them in eons because I've got exams coming up and I highkey need to get my act together instead of procrastinating so I can go to a good university, but updates will be happening eventually!  
> As always, feedback is definitely encouraged and appreciated. Thanks for taking the time to read; it means a lot!


	2. Chapter 2

Dana didn’t see the weird cute guy from next door after that. Not for a long time.

And, unsurprisingly, he didn’t see her either. For some reason, this bothered him. He wanted to apologise for shutting the door in her face. He was confused and embarrassed, especially after the ‘mom’ comment – where the hell had that even come from, anyway?

When he had returned from upstairs after quickly getting changed and having a healthy shouting-into-his-pillow moment, the girl at his doorstep had vanished.

He really wasn’t sure what he had expected.

She looked nothing like he expected. For a start, she had red hair. Not just any red, though – it was the color of a copper sunset, and brilliantly frizzy. And her _eyes_ – chips of eyes, sapphire gems, the color of the ocean. None of the old clichés did them justice at all. How could they describe the way her lashes fluttered when she blinked, or the roundness of her eyes when she saw his half-naked state?

He groaned, his hands cradling his head as he stared down blankly at his desk. Perhaps it was best to forget about the last part, or better yet, to forget about the entire thing. Mulder rubbed his eyes until he saw stars beneath his eyelids and opened them blearily, hoping to have somehow erased the memory from his mind’s eye. He found himself staring at the house next door, or rather, the window facing his own.

When his eyes cleared he had to pinch himself.

The girl was _right there._ Literally sitting across from him, no more than a couple of meters away. Her desk was set up at her window too – she sat there, her oversized glasses perched on her nose, brows knitted as she leaned over her work. One hand was tangled in her hair as she focused. Judging by the look on her face, she was doing math work. The ghost of a chuckle left his lips in spite of everything.

Mulder hid behind the ‘pile of shame’ – the small mountain of incomplete assignments left on his desk – and thought about what to do. He didn’t want her to notice him… Did he? Somehow, he couldn’t see her greeting him with a smile and a wave after how they left things the last time they had seen each other. He would have to fix his mistakes, but he wasn’t a _miracle worker._ The idea of speaking to her again had already grown stale in his mind. He’d already completely blown it for himself.

With a sigh, he turned in his chair and stared into space, chin propped up by his hands, his elbows balanced on his knees. He caught himself gazing at the wastepaper basket in the corner of his room and re-focused, noticing another pile of crumpled work and paper planes constructed from unfinished drafts of assignments. Fox grimaced and turned away again. The bin was yet another reminder of all the work he had failed to do, and the minutes passed away on amateur origami.

_Wait._

He spun in the desk chair again so he was facing the girl. A faint frown was evident on her face; she bit her lip and bent her head down further until her nose almost touched the wooden surface of her bureau. Mulder clapped his hands and reached out for a spare piece of paper, a slow, steady grin already spreading across his face.

_Oh, yes._

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dana had almost completed her first set of homework of the school term when something flew over her head. She felt it brush her hair as it cruised through the air and heard it crash land with a dull _thud_ into her bookcase.

“What the…”

She peered out the window, expecting an obvious explanation. Nothing. The neighbor’s window was open, giving her an insight into a dark (and extremely untidy, if her eyes weren’t mistaken) bedroom, but nobody was there. Dana frowned and got to her feet, giving the area another glance-over before turning around to pick up whatever had just flown through her window.

There, in front of her bookcase, laid a paper plane. The tip was crumpled from the impact on the sturdy oak surface, but it was otherwise undamaged. Dana raised an eyebrow and picked it up between thumb and forefinger, a million and one questions already racing through her head. She walked back to the desk and unfolded the plane cautiously, acting as though there might be a bomb hidden inside somehow.

There wasn’t a bomb. No explosives of the sort. Just a note, scribbled in black biro in messy, sloping handwriting. _A boy’s handwriting,_ she realized. Her heart skipped a beat.

_Hey,_

_I’d tell you to not freak out, but something tells me that would probably make you even more apprehensive about receiving a random note from the weird guy next door. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for what happened a couple of weeks ago – I’d just got out of the shower and when you knocked the door I thought it was my mom coming home from work early… Hence the weird ‘mom’ thing. Shutting the door in your face probably wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve done, but I was super embarrassed and I wanted to get dressed… It was pretty stupid of me to slam the door without explaining that to you though. Anyways, I see you’re my new neighbour. Welcome to the neighbourhood, everyone’s an asshole. Including me. Especially me, in fact. Please accept my poor apology because I’m very awkward and also your dad and brother terrify me (not that I’ve been spying on you and your family. I’m not creepy, I promise)._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Fox Mulder (the shirtless weirdo from next door)_

Dana held the note in both hands, mouthing the words he wrote as her fingertips skimmed over the page. As she read, she smiled. At some parts she even laughed and covered her mouth so nobody would hear. She looked over at the window opposite hers when she was done, but no one was there. Before she knew what she was doing, she had grabbed her pencil and was already scribbling out a response.

Fox was crouched behind his desk with his knees up to his chest, heart pounding. He smiled when he heard her laugh – a light, sweet sound – and pressed his knuckles against his mouth.

Her plane flew over the desk and hit his door. He crawled over on all fours and picked it up.

_Hey,_

_I’ve got to say, out of all the introductions I’ve had to endure in my seventeen years of life on this planet, yours has certainly been the most interesting. I don’t know if that’s a good thing, given how it went down, but I graciously accept your apology. Perhaps you won’t care to know because of your assholishness, but my name is Dana Scully. And maybe you’re an asshole for apologizing over paper plane but surely I am also an asshole for responding via paper plane too? (This is probably the most times I’ve said asshole ever, let alone in a letter – I’ll stop now). My dad and brother (I’m presuming you’re talking about Bill) aren’t scary at all! You should see them when they’re mad. Also, I don’t want to sound rude, but is Fox your real name? That’s unusual! I like it._

_Yours More Sincerely,_

_Dana Scully (the nerd from next door)_

He was already clambering to his feet to grab another sheet of paper and his pen. There was a goofy smile plastered all over his face as he read the last couple of lines. _She liked his name._ Suddenly Fox didn’t sound so stupid after all.

She only needed to wait a few minutes before another plane came through her window. This time, she caught it in her hands.

_Dearest Dana (I’m joking),_

_Yup, that’s my real name. Tragic, isn’t it? I prefer to be called Mulder, even though nobody actually calls me that. Sometimes my mom does when my dad’s not around, but he can’t stand it. You can call me Fox if you want, though. Or Mulder. Either is fine. Thanks for accepting my apology, though. And yeah, I guess you’re an asshole too but that’s okay. I can tolerate you… For now._

_FYI, your dad and brother are terrifying. Like, seriously. They are SCARY. How can you live under the same roof as them? I’d be too afraid to breathe in their company._

_Dana’s a pretty cool name, for a nerd. Don’t you have homework to do? Not that I don’t enjoy wasting your time. I’ve never had a pen pal before, so this is kind of fun. It’s even more fun knowing you’re only a couple of feet away right now. Isn’t that kind of weird? Should we talk to each other for real? I think we might be able to shout a couple of times without your parents asking any questions._

_Yours Most Sincerely, Mulder._

Her response came almost immediately.

_Dearest Mulder,_

_In case you couldn’t tell, I like Mulder a lot. Fox is cool too, but if you prefer being called Mulder I can roll with that._

_For the last time, by dad and brother aren’t scary! Bill might be the oldest out of the four of us, but he’s just a big softie most of the time. He can be annoying now and then, but he’s just protective I think. Do you have any siblings? If you do, I bet they’re not as annoying as Bill and Charlie. Melissa’s okay most of the time, but she has her moments. I guess all siblings do._

_Yes, I am supposed to be doing work, but here we are. I’m not complaining. I enjoy having my time wasted by you, I think. You’ve never had a pen-pal? I’ve had tons! My family moves around a lot, though, so I guess it’s kind of to be expected. It’s super weird knowing you’re basically right in front of me (even though you’re hiding, and so am I, but it’s a lot less daunting that way). Feel free to shout over if you want, but I can’t reply. Someone will come up to investigate and I’ll either look like a complete freak talking to myself or I’ll get in trouble. My dad’s kind of protective like that._

_When you next reply, I’ll be at my desk. We can wave to each other, but that’s about it. I appreciate the idea, though._

_Yours More Sincerely Than Most Sincerely,_

_Scully (alright, I’m copying you here. But I’m hoping to study medicine at college and become a doctor, so I’ll end up being called ‘Scully’ anyway. If everything turns out okay, anyway)._

On reading the topic of siblings, Mulder froze. It was a passing question, a natural one at that, but what was he supposed to say? Samantha had been gone for years, and there was no sense in lying or hiding it; the rest of the street had taken his sister’s disappearance and warped it into a twisted kind of small-talk. Scully and her family would soon find out – they’d hear all about the standoffish Mulders and their crazy son.

It didn’t mean he was ready to talk about it. Even his own parents wanted to pretend that she’d never existed, that it was hopeless trying to find her. Besides, Scully would probably think he belonged in the nut house if he told her what happened. It was stupid, but she was probably the closest he’d got to having a real friend since moving schools. What could he do?

_Dear Scully,_

_I had a younger sister called Samantha. She went missing when she was eight years old. If it’s alright with you I would prefer not to talk about it._

_I’m supposed to be working too – shame on you, Scully, for being such a distraction! I’m kidding. I’ve been trying to catch some shut-eye for at least an hour now. Hey, which school do you go to? I haven’t seen you around, and you must be pretty smartif you want to study medicine so you would be in my classes… Not to blow my own trumpet or anything. And it’s fine if you can’t talk – you’ll see me before you read this but I’ll wave back! I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble with your family, least of all your terrifying father. I feel like he’d be able to crush my windpipe in one of his hands._

_We can just wave and pull faces at each other, I don’t mind that at all. To be honest, your sort-of company is quite nice._

_Yours of the Most Sincerest Nature Since Sincere Sliced Bread,_

_Mulder_

For good measure, he drew a little smiley face at the bottom of the paper. He climbed onto his chair from the floor, shaking out his stiff legs. Sure enough, she was sitting at her desk, no longer hiding. It looked like she was doodling on a piece of paper – perhaps she had resumed the homework she was supposed to be doing.

When he saw her – _actually_ saw her this time – his chest ached.

She was beautiful. Her hair was tied back in a cute kind of whale-spout ponytail but her bangs still hung over her forehead, almost reaching eye-level. She was smiling at him -at _him!_ – showing off a faint dimple on her right cheek before she covered her mouth with one hand. She’d taken off her glasses and placed them on top of her textbooks; her eyes were round and blue and pretty, just like they had been when they met all those weeks ago. Dana waved at him, lifting off her seat a little, caught up in her own excitement. Her giggles were muffled by her hand but he could just about hear them.

 _“Hey,”_ she mouthed. He hadn’t even noticed he was grinning until he felt his cheeks aching.

 _“Hey,”_ he whispered back, holding up the paper plane. She nodded and held up her hands as though preparing to catch it. He threw it and watched as it glided seamlessly through her window. She caught it and held it to her chest before showing him that it was in safe hands. He nodded and smiled, mesmerized. His heart raced as he watched her pick it apart and read the note.

Fox saw her eyebrows twitch and a frown came over her face for a split second. He wrung his hands together. So, she’d seen the part about Samantha. But then she started to chuckle – or he thought she did. She had covered her mouth before he could check.

He watched her write out a response with sweaty palms, biting the inside of his mouth for some resolve. But she was smiling when she darted the plane through his window, which was a good sign. He uncrumpled the paper. It was only then that he noticed his hands were trembling – only a little, but enough to make him bite down on his bottom lip.

_Dear Mulder,_

_I’m so sorry about your sister, I didn’t mean to pry. I know you said you don’t want to talk about it, but if you ever do, you’ve got your friendly neighbourhood redhead on hand whenever you need._

_I go to Spring Hill, what about you? It’s kind of stupid that we moved because I’ve pretty much finished high school now and Charlie’s not too far from leaving either. We were going to stay with one of our aunts and uncles but in the end, we decided to come with. I’m glad we did. The house is nice, and we’re a good walking distance from pretty much everywhere. And the neighbours are okay, I GUESS… The boy next door is kind of annoying – Fox, I think his name is? – but I suppose I can tolerate him. (I am definitely joking around, in case you were wondering. You’re like the best person I’ve met so far – the rest of the people on this street are kind of boring and rude)._

_Hey, I hate to sound like a snoop, but is that a boombox in your room? If it is that’s awesome! Charlie got a Walkman for his birthday and I was so jealous… I was going to ask about getting one for my birthday but with the move I didn’t want to put any more pressure on my parents. But I think they’re getting me a computer – that’s what Melissa told me, anyway. It’s pretty cool – great for work, at least. I don’t want to be ungrateful because if that’s true, it’ll cost a bomb, but I would have been fine with a Walkman too. Or something like that. I love music, so it’s kind of a shame. But I’m glad they put thought into the present, if it is a computer._

_I’m rambling on about nothing now. Sorry._

_Yours Sincerely (I really couldn’t think of anything more sincere to write, so I guess you win!)_

_Scully_

She watched him read with her bottom lip trapped between her teeth, her eyes jumping between the letter and his face. Truth be told, he was the first boy she’d ever _really_ spoken to like this – unless her ‘boyfriend’ from fifth grade counted. Scottie Busch, who wrote her a total of three times before he ‘dumped’ her for Millie Edelman when she moved away, was no Fox Mulder. Not by a _long shot._

He was pretty. It was really the most fitting word she could think of besides ‘soft’. But he _was._ There was something solemn and sad about him, but when she saw him sitting there, reading _her_ letter with his tousled bedhead flopping over his eyes, smiling at _her_ words with that perfect pink pouty mouth, it sent her heart into overdrive.

Perhaps pretty was too tame a word after all. He was… A masterpiece. A work of art.

Her face flushed at the thought, but she knew that she’d hit the nail right on the head. He _was._ She suspected he was the most beautiful boy she had ever seen.

A letter flew past her and landed on her pillow. Dana walked over and picked it up. Four words, that was all. Four simple words:

_Give me a minute_

When she looked to the window, he’d disappeared. She sat down at her desk and waited.

It wasn’t long before he came back, the very same boombox that she had previously mentioned in his hands. He placed it on his desk with a grin and sent another message over.

_What sort of music do you like, Scully?_

Her response was almost instant.

_Surprise me._

Oh, boy.

He reached for the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled it out. There was nothing in there, save for a bland, tattered shoebox. Mulder lifted it out and placed it on the desk surface with care, opening the lid like he was performing some sort of surgery. Dana watched, confused, the shoebox lid blocking her view. He looked up at her and grinned, waving a cassette tape back and forth.

“Oh!”

She gave him a thumbs-up and smiled, watching as he fiddled around with the player and slotted the tape in. He twiddled the volume dial, altering it just a little, and turned the boombox around so it was facing her. She turned around and made sure the door was shut. Her family probably couldn’t even hear, but if her dad caught on and came upstairs… She couldn’t help but think about what Mulder had said, about her father crushing his windpipe with one hand. It wasn’t an unrealistic prediction. The thought brought a faint grimace to her face.

Another plane through the window.

_This is a mix of some of my favorite tracks. Let me know what you think._

The music came slowly, drifting through her window with the autumnal breeze. No lyrics at first, only the plucky sound of a guitar. It kind of sounded like a Beatles song, kind of didn’t. Dana leaned closer, her elbows propped up on the windowsill. Mulder was nodding along to the music from his room, pulling a goofy face as he played air-guitar. She giggled and covered her mouth again.

 _“I never knew how complete love could beeeeee,”_  he mimed along, his words and actions exaggerated. It wasn’t a Beatles song, not at all. She knew that now. _”’Til she kissed me and said baby pleaaaase, go all the way…”_ Mulder waved his hands along to the music, watching her watching him with her smiling blue eyes. He scrawled something down on another note and sent it over.

_Do you like it?_

_Also, I didn’t answer your question. I go to Riverview. I used to be at Spring Hill, but I got kicked out for fighting with some asshole – his dad’s a governor so he got away even though he started it. I used to get in fights a lot, so that didn’t really help my cause. But hey, Riverview isn’t all bad. It’s a shame we won’t be seeing each other around school, though._

He almost added ‘I like talking to you’ but thought better of it. He didn’t want to scare her away.

Her response was fast.

_I do like this song! It’s catchy. I wouldn’t normally listen to this kind of music in my house – my family are strict like that. No, not strict… Just protective. My dad’s worse than my mom in that sense – she listens to all kinds of music when he’s not at home but when he’s around we’re only allowed music from the radio. Not that he hates music, I just think he tries to censor everything because he still sees Charlie and I as children. All parents find it hard watching their kids grow up, but it happens. It has to. I just wish I could tell him that._

_I’m rambling again, I’m so sorry. When I open up, it’s hard to stop me from talking people to death. That’s what Missy says._

_It’s so shitty that you got kicked out and the other boy didn’t. He sounds like a bully. Are there many bullies at Spring Hill? I kind of stopped trying to fit in with cliques after our third move and let people come to me instead, but that sometimes makes me a magnet for trouble. Not that I can’t handle it, but I like to be prepared whenever possible. Hey, maybe if things are bad at Spring Hill I could move to Riverview._

_Scully._

Fox loved her ramblings. He loved learning more about her, about her family. He loved how swirly and neat her handwriting was, and how she wrote to him with such eager curiosity, like she was talking to somebody on the other side of the world rather than someone who was almost within arm’s reach. He liked watching her write, her eyebrows furrowing together as she erased a spelling error or the upward curve of her own mouth as she tried not to laugh at her own jokes.

The next song in his mix was Piano Man. In the middle of writing his letter another plane flew through his window and poked him in the chest.

_I love this song!_

Setting his first letter aside, he wrote back:

_You know, I can’t help but feel like this is the beginning of something wonderful, Scully._

_Me too,_ was her response.

Mulder looked up. Dana was smiling at him from her desk, the warm glow of her desk lamp illuminating her face. He felt a grin spread across his face until his cheeks started to hurt again. When she showed her teeth, she covered her mouth again. He kind of wished she wouldn’t but didn’t want to say anything.

Some moments are simply not made for words; they exist solely within an image, and this one was shared by two. The strange boy and the perfect girl, just out of the other’s reach, smiling at the prospect of something new and exciting and sweet. To quote Dana Scully, it was something _soft._ Something gentle and warm, and exclusively for them.

It marked the beginning of a brilliant partnership between the pair – the pen-pal neighbours versus the world.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey Dana, you coming?"

She slapped a hand over her notebook and shoved it into her back hastily. "Uh, yeah. Sure."

Monica raised an eyebrow and shared a private smile with her new lab partner. "Secret stuff, huh? Don't worry, I won't peek." She swept her feathery hair out of her eyes and joined the clamor of students trying to leave the classroom. "By the way, John and I are about to head to the mall to grab some food, d'you wanna come with? We figured we could show you around while we're at it."

"Oh, uhh..." Dana looked up at Monica while she stalled for an answer. Spring Hill was no hellhole, but she was by far the kindest person there so far. Though she reminded herself that she didn't need it, Monica had taken her under her wing and practically introduced her to everybody in the school. The gesture wasn't unappreciated, but it was certainly different to what she'd experienced at her other schools. More often than not, the new kid was an outcast. They didn't belong - it was that simple. Dana supposed that Monica's hospitality wasn't so bad, though. She even entertained the idea of them becoming serious friends. "Yeah, why not. It sounds fun."

"Awesome," Monica grinned. "John's meeting us in the parking lot, he'll drive us there and take you home after."

"Great," Dana replied. "Although, I need to be back home by five."

"Don't sweat it, that's not a problem," she said. “It shouldn’t take very long. As you’ve probably figured out for yourself, not much happens around here. It’s a pretty dull town.”

“I’ve seen worse,” she admitted, falling into step with Monica. In a swift movement, she snapped her notebook shut and shoved it into her bag. There was nothing special inside. Just song lyrics and poorly-drawn scribbles. “No, it’s nice here. I think I like it, anyway.”

“That’s good to hear!” Monica sounded like she meant what she said. Dana smiled at the ground as they left the building. “You’re the talk of the school right now. Everyone wants to know who you are and where you came from – not me, of course. Well, maybe a little. I’ll try not to pry too much, though.”

Dana laughed. “I’m really not that interesting at all,” she said. “We move around a lot because of my dad’s job, which is why we’re here. To be completely honest, I didn’t see much of a point in making friends after a while because I knew we’d just end up moving away again.”

Monica frowned. “That’s sad,” she said after a brief pause. “Hey, even if you’re only around for a short while, I’ll be your friend. John will, too. And I know loads of people who want to get to know you if you get what I mean.” She poked Dana in the ribs with a pointy elbow, grinning suggestively.

“I’m definitely not interested. I’ve got too much on my mind, I don’t need boys added to the equation.”

“You’re right about that – boys are trouble, eh, John?”

“What?” Sure enough, Monica’s friend was standing by a pretty shitty-looking car… But it was a car nonetheless, which was more than what Dana could say she had. He was tall, with an incredibly piercing stare. They shared the same class with Monica, but she hadn’t found any reason to talk to him. There was a brief awkward moment where they sized each other up, uncertain of how to respond to each other.

He held up his hand in a half-wave. “Hey. I’m John.”

“Dana,” Dana replied, returning the half-wave. “Dana Scully.”

“Let’s cut the formalities,” Monica said with a roll of her eyes. “We’re going to the food court and we’re gonna become besties over three extremely greasy, dangerously unhealthy burgers, alright? And Dana is going to tell me everything about her life, and John is going to drive and pay for our food.”

“Like hell he is,” he murmured with a small smile. “C’mon, get in the car before I change my mind.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“What do you think of Spring Hill so far then, Dana?”

“It’s not bad.” Her voice was muffled by the napkin she used to cover her mouth. “Definitely better than other schools I’ve been to. Everyone seems really nice, anyway. That’s always a good thing.”

“ _Most_ people seem really nice,” Monica corrected, gesturing wildly with a plastic fork. “I’m not saying it’s an awful place, but you know what it’s like. Every school has its setbacks. Ours just come in the form of busty brunettes, mostly.” She stopped to bite into her burger. Dana’s eyebrows quirked upwards; it didn’t go unnoticed. Once she’d eaten, she continued: “Have you heard the name Diana Fowley yet, by any chance?”

Dana mulled over the name in her head for a moment. “No, I don’t think I have. Would she be the busty brunette you’re referring to, by any chance?” Her smile was light and teasing; Monica couldn’t help but smirk and roll her eyes.

“Full marks,” she said. “Yeah, she is. She’s a total nightmare, by the way. Stay out of her way if you can.”

“What’s her deal?” Dana leaned forward, resting her face in her hands.

“What  _isn’t_ her deal?” John scoffed. “She’s trouble. That’s all there is to it.”

“That is  _not_ all there is to it,” Monica insisted. “We used to be friends with her. We hung out in the same groups and went to the same parties until around a year ago. She started dating this guy, he was sort of a friend of ours too – well, kind of, anyway-“

“You’re blabbing,” John said. She shushed him.

“We knew him, and he was an alright guy, even though he didn’t speak very much. He was kind of like our school’s bad boy, in a way – always getting into trouble, starting fights, that kind of thing. Diana dated him for like, six months, but they went  _waaay_ back. They’d known each other since kindergarten, so that’s kind of a big deal. Anyway, he completely doted on her, which we all thought was kind of crazy because this guy looked like he could be a total player. Looking back, I think she thrived on the attention he gave her… She didn’t care about how he felt, she just enjoyed being looked at. I don’t know.  _Anyway,_  we were talking to him and he was telling us how serious he was about her, and how he’d felt how he did then, etcetera, and how he wanted to tell her that, so we encouraged him to go find her and tell her – I’m a sucker for a good romance story – and…”

“He caught her making out with someone else instead.” John grimaced and shook his head. “It was a real shitty thing to do. Poor guy was devastated. And the worst thing? She just laughed it off and told him to chill out. Instead, he beat the other guy to a pulp and got kicked out for good.”

Dana froze. “What did you say?”

Monica and John shared a look. “He got kicked out,” he repeated slowly. “Why’d you ask?”

“What was his name?”

“Funny you should ask,” John chuckled. “His name was  _Fox_. I mean, who calls their kid something like that?”

“No way.” The words slipped out before she could stop herself. They gave her a strange look. "His last name's Mulder, right? Fox Mulder?"

"Yeah, you know him?" John's eyebrows shot upwards.

"He lives next door to me," Dana replied. Her mouth felt dry; there were breadcrumbs sticking to her tongue, trailing down the back of her throat. She let out a dry cough. Neither of her classmates noticed.

“No way!” Monica covered her face with her hands. “Oh my god, what a small world! Hey, next time you see him, tell him I said hi. He was kinda weird, but he was nice. Tell him we miss him!”

“I can’t believe it,” John mused. “That’s crazy.”

“Yeah,” Dana said, her voice practically a mumble. Her hands unconsciously reached for her bag.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Monica asked, nudging her again. “We were only kidding about his name. He used to make fun of it himself, I swear.”

“I know,” she replied. Her tone just fell short of snappy. She closed her eyes and allowed herself the time to take a breath, feeling her cheeks begin to burn. “Sorry, I’m just a little… He told me he’d been expelled from Spring Hill, but I didn’t know exactly why. That’s so shitty.”

“Do you talk to him a lot?”

“Kind of, yeah.” She wasn’t about to discuss the letters that flew through her window by the hour, or even the minute, or how he kept his boombox positioned carefully by his window so they could share his tapes. It was something personal, something that should belong in a diary kept under lock and key. “We speak every now and then.”

“Dana, your face is bright red.”

“What? No it’s not.”

“It definitely is,” Monica said. With a sudden start she gasped, her mouth forming the perfect ‘O’ shape. “Oh my god! You like him!”

“No way! That’s stupid. I’ve only known him for like, two or three weeks maybe.” Her face was turning a horrible beetroot color, and the flush seemed to spread down to her neck.

“That’s enough time to  _fall in loooove,_ ” Monica teased. When Dana’s blush grew darker, which didn’t even seem physically possible, she stopped. “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with it. He’s very cute, even if he’s a little strange. You go, girl.”

“I don’t like him, I can assure you,” she said. “If you think he’s cute, why don’t you talk to him?”

“Because she’s got the hots for me,” John joked.

“Shut it, Doggett.” But Dana noticed the blush creeping up her neck and smiled, making a mental note to bring that up later. Monica was  _not_ getting away that easily. “Because he’s cute, but not my type, y’know? Besides, I think you two would be adorable together.”

“You’ve never even seen us together!”  _Hell, we haven’t even seen us together yet. Not including the time I walked in on him half-naked, at least._

"I don't have to," she grinned. "A girl just knows these things."

Dana simply gave her a look. She sensed that there was no point in arguing - she would only come out of it worse off. Besides, Monica wasn't entirely wrong. Mulder was cute, and he was friendly and funny and kind. It would have been almost naive to pretend he wasn't. And though Dana lacked experience with boys, she could tell that Mulder was one of the good ones. But that didn't mean that she wanted to date him, or even that she liked him. She could still be just friends with a cute guy. There wasn't anything wrong with that.

But, not that she did, of course... _If_ she __did_  _like him, it wouldn't be so bad, would it...?

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

When she came upstairs after dinner he was already sitting at his desk, waiting for her. Or so she liked to think. He grinned and waved; she returned the gesture half-heartedly. The conversation with Monica and John had her thinking about a lot of things – none of it good. She wondered what was going through Diana’s mind when she kissed that other guy. Did she do it to hurt Mulder? Did she do it because she was bored? Dana couldn’t figure it out.

A paper plane floated through her window and landed in her lap. She unfolded it and read the message: _Hey, are you okay? I’m probably just overthinking it, but you look kind of upset._

 _It’s nothing,_ she wrote back. It wasn’t a complete lie. She held her pen between her teeth and thought of how to ask the questions that demanded an answer. _I hung out with some people from my lab class today and we got talking. Turns out they know you – I don’t know if you remember Monica and John, but they told me to say hi to you, from them. And they kind of told me about what happened before you got kicked out… I’m so sorry you went through all of that. I know I shouldn’t pry, but if you want to talk, you can. It was shitty of her._

Her heart thumped in her throat as she watched her response fly through his window. She watched him read for a lifetime. With a pang, she noticed that he had started to frown down at the paper, the lines apparent on his forehead. Brows knitted, lips pursed, he ducked his head down to write back. She wondered if she’d messed things up, and how she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself if she had.

 _They shouldn’t have told you._ Her stomach churned. That was it, she knew it. She’d screwed it up. Part of her wanted to screw the letter into a ball and throw it as far away as she possibly could, but she carried on reading, her terrible curiosity getting the better of her. _It’s my business, not theirs. But I appreciate that you want to help… It means a lot to me. There’s nothing to really talk about, though – she cheated and lied to me, and it messed me up for a while, but I’m okay now. As okay as I can be, anyway._

_I do remember Monica and John, though – tell them I said hey back! They were the only people in that friend group that weren’t complete assholes._

She shared a look with him when she glanced over to his house. He smiled again, an easy, gentle smile that did stupid things to her insides. But if the shadows under his eyes and the rumpled hair were anything to go by, he was exhausted. Dana watched him rub his hand over his five o’clock shadow and yawn, half-mesmerized. She bent her head and set about writing back.

_Mulder, if you don’t mind me saying, you look like you haven’t slept in days. Why don’t you go to bed? I promise you’re not missing much, just me complaining about school and the amount of homework I should be doing right now – the standard list of issues in my extremely dull life._

_That’s why I’m staying awake,_ he wrote back. _I’m hoping your letters will bore me to sleep_

 _You’re so mean,_ she replied, but she laughed as she wrote it out. _But I mean it, get some sleep. Doctor’s orders._

 _I can’t,_ he sent back. _Seriously. You were right, I really haven’t slept in days. I’ve tried, but I can’t get comfortable, or sometimes I just don’t feel tired, and when I finally fall asleep my dreams wake me up. Sucks, huh? Guess I’ll just have to listen to how your day went._ This was accompanied by a little grinning face at the bottom of the paper. The last sentence basically meant ‘I don’t want to talk about this, either’. Dana Scully was no idiot.

Frustration rose in her as she read the same sentence over and over again. They’d been speaking for weeks now and he still refused to tell her anything. She had opened her heart to him and he’d given her nothing. Steady blotches of pink appeared on her cheeks as she thought back to their conversations. He asked, and she answered, and when she tried to shift the dynamic he avoided every single one of her questions with dumb jokes and one-liners.

_Do you trust me, Mulder?_

The letter had flown over before she had given it enough thought to change her mind. She sat at her desk, pressing her cold hands against her burning cheeks, acting way too nonchalant with her eyes directed down at her algebra textbook like it was the most interesting thing in the whole world. She wouldn’t look at him looking at her, she _wouldn’t._

 _Of course I do. What makes you think I don’t?_ There’s something about the letter – Dana wasn’t sure what, though it could be the ‘of course’ or the ‘what makes you think’ – that sounded surprised, and just a little hurt. She picked her next words with care, not wanting to screw up more than she already probably had.

_I was wondering, that’s all. Sometimes I feel like you don’t want me to know anything about you. I mean, we’ll talk about me all day and night but when I ask about you, you shut me out and change the topic. Is it something I’ve been doing wrong, or am I reading too much into this? I’m really sorry if I’ve upset you in any way, it just scares me a little. You’re my friend, Mulder. I respect your privacy, but I’d hate for you to feel like you can’t talk to me about stuff._

It took a long time for him to reply. Dana was considering shutting her window and calling it a night when his plane flew past her and landed at the end of her bed. She reached out for it and uncurled the folds with trembling fingers.

 _You shouldn’t be sorry. In fact, I should be the one apologizing. I don’t tell you a lot about myself. Probably because I’m super boring and not interesting at all, but also slightly because of Diana and the rest of the crazy shit that’s happened in my life. And you’re right, I shouldn’t be shutting you out. I consider you a friend, too, and I shouldn’t be throwing that away. You’re part of one of the most exclusive groups in the whole world – Mulder’s Friend Club. There are only four members, sometimes only one when my other three friends piss me off._ She stopped to laugh and cover her mouth. From the other house, Mulder’s head perked up. She pretended not to see him, but she hoped that he was smiling along with her. _Listen, Scully. I’m not saying that it’s going to be easy for me, but I want to give you a chance. So, go ahead. Ask me anything. As of now, I’m an open book._

Her thoughts went to Diana and Samantha before she stopped herself. It wasn’t the right time, not yet. She didn’t even know if she wanted to ask.

He waited for what felt like forever before her letter arrived.

_What’s your favorite color?_

Mulder laughed at that. He couldn’t help himself. And though he told her it was the color of the sky, his _true_ favorite was the brilliant fire-red of her hair.

When Diana broke his heart, he vowed that he wouldn’t let himself fall that hard again. Yet there he sat, gazing over at Dana Scully as she wrote her reply to him with a smile on her face. He watched her nibble on her bottom lip as she folded the letter and sent it back to him.

He wished he hadn’t fallen again. But he had, and he’d fallen hard.


End file.
